by R. J. Koreto
We drove to a small but clean place, not far from where Mariah lived. The block was host to a number of modest storefronts, a butcher, and a baker—nothing fancy, but all respectable. The clothes shop we entered had a simple sign out front: “S. Lieberman, Tailors and Suits for Hire.” Inside, it was clean, with suits hanging on racks and bolts of cloth piled high on work tables.
The tailor had me take off my coat and jacket and proceeded to measure me and write down the notes in a little book.
“You can’t wear this,” he said, pointing to my Colt. “It’ll spoil the line of the jacket.”
“I have to keep it with me. But I have a shoulder holster. Just give me some extra room in the shoulder.”
He sighed and finished his measurements. “Stay here, miss. You—come to the back with me.” He produced a suit and shirt, and in short order, I was dressed to go. He led me up front, where the light was better and he had a mirror. Alice’s eyes got big, and she held her hand to her mouth.
“Well, Mr. St. Clair, you do clean up well. My God, you look good.”
The tailor gave an appreciative look. “Broad in chest, narrow in waist—a good build for evening wear. I have a few adjustments to make. You need it tomorrow?”
“Yes. Please deliver it to the Caledonia.”
I looked in the mirror, but it was like looking at a stranger. It was a pleasure to get back into my own suit and head back to the Caledonia.
“You do know, Mr. St. Clair, you carry off clothes like that as well as any man? No society lady would be ashamed to be in your company.”
“If you say so, Miss Alice,” and that was pretty much it until we were home.
Only one more thing happened that day. When I saw Alice back into the apartment, Mrs. Cowles was just inside the door, and I thought we were in for it again. But she was smiling, and over her shoulder I could see a man I didn’t recognize.
“Alice, I’m so glad you’re home. We have an unexpected dinner guest. Mr. Nicholas Longworth is a legislator from Ohio—and a Harvard graduate, like your father, who has given him letters of introduction to some men in Washington.”
Longworth stepped forward. Now here was a man who could wear clothes. He was as elegant a dandy as I had ever seen, like someone who had stepped out of a magazine illustration.
“Miss Roosevelt, a pleasure. Your family has offered me so many kindnesses, and now I look forward to making your acquaintance over dinner.” In self-assurance and charm, I’d give him points over Preston van Schuyler any day. I was going to slip away quietly, but Alice decided to introduce me.
“Mr. Longworth, this is Mr. St. Clair, my Secret Service bodyguard and a veteran of the Rough Riders.”
He didn’t look me up and down, or he did it so quickly, I didn’t notice. He stuck out his hand and gave me a firm handshake.
“You must be a remarkable man,” he said.
“I appreciate the compliment, sir, but I don’t see what I’ve done to deserve it.”
“Mr. Roosevelt entrusted his eldest daughter to your protection, and he wouldn’t make such a decision lightly.”
“Well then, thank you again, and you have a nice visit in New York City,” I said, and as I slipped away, I noticed he had started a conversation with Alice, and she seemed interested.
CHAPTER 17
We had a late breakfast the next morning, and it seemed as if I’d be getting to eat in the family room every day. It saved me the choice of spending money or having to try to charm Dulcie, but I did have to watch my manners better.
Mrs. Cowles had already eaten and left for the day, so it was just the two of us. Alice was so excited she could hardly eat, which was a shame because we were having waffles again.
“Tonight’s very important,” she said. “We may not have as good a chance again to question the Van Schuylers. I want to know what they are really up to, and we have to watch their faces when we bring up the Archangel, the Great Erie, Dunilsky—”
“Miss Alice, all you’re going to get is both of us thrown out on our ear. You can’t just say things like that.”
She gave her head a toss. “You underestimate me. I’m not going to question them like some petty thief in the backrooms of the Tombs. You will see how a political discussion proceeds. And they won’t expect it from the president’s young daughter. Your job is keeping your eyes and ears open. They’ll be a little interested in you. You’re almost exotic. So draw them out.” She paused. “Preston’s cousin Julia will no doubt be there. Women seem to find you interesting, so you can talk to her.” She said it like she knew it was true but didn’t know why.
“All right. I’ll follow your lead and make sure I don’t forget which is the fish fork.”
“Were you this difficult heading up San Juan Hill?”
“When I was running up San Juan Hill, I knew what I was doing. So is there anything else on for today?”
“We could just sit here all day while you eat waffles, but there’s a musical program that sounds rather promising, and some Republican ladies Aunt Anna wants me to meet will be there.”
“Some Sousa marches? I rather liked those at the concert we went to last month.”
“Mozart, I think,” she said.
You take the rough with the smooth.
* * *
Shortly after we came back that afternoon, a delivery man dropped off my evening suit. I let it hang on the back of my door as I lay in bed and just looked at it. I remembered when I was a boy, we spent the summer barefoot because shoes were a luxury, so we saved them for when there was snow on the ground.
I did what I could to clean up and then went through the complicated process of getting into the evening wear. It took a little while, but the tailor had done a good job, and the shoulder holster fit neatly under the jacket. The shoes felt a little odd—I was used to my cowboy boots. I didn’t have a full-length mirror, just a little one for shaving and washing up, but everything seemed to go together all right.
My riding coat clearly wasn’t going to go with this, nevermind my Stetson, but we weren’t going to be outside long, and I could make do. I gave one more try at smoothing my hair down and went upstairs to pick up Alice. A maid let me in, and she couldn’t hide the surprise in her eyes. “Miss Roosevelt will be out in a moment,” she said. I watched her head into the kitchen, and a moment later, Dulcie came, drying her hands on a towel. She was smiling and then gave a genuine laugh. “Oh, my,” she said. “Well fancy that. I never would’ve believed it.” She laughed again and, shaking her head, went back to the kitchen.
I wasn’t left alone long. Alice was as dolled up as I had ever seen her, wearing a really grand dress, and her hair was done up fancy.
“You look lovely, Miss Alice,” I said, and she gave a little twirl.
“Thank you. And those clothes really suit you.”
We were interrupted by the opening of the door behind me as Mrs. Cowles came striding in. Alice winked at me and then stood right next to me and slipped her arm in mine.
“We’re just about to leave for the Van Schuylers. Don’t Mr. St. Clair and I make a handsome couple?” she asked.
Mrs. Cowles raised an eyebrow. “Most handsome,” she said dryly. I wasn’t entirely happy with Alice’s observation or Mrs. Cowles’s response. We might have to talk about this later. I was not a “couple” with Alice Roosevelt.
But Alice didn’t see anything wrong. Heck, she doubled down. “Could I have Mr. St. Clair escort me to the Ballentine Ball in the spring? I’d be the envy of all the other girls.”
“You’d have to check with Mr. St. Clair’s superior. I believe he’d be entitled to hazard pay. I hope you enjoy yourselves this evening.”
We’d really have to talk later.
We were out the door and in the car in a few minutes. The Van Schuylers weren’t far. If I had been on my own, I probably would’ve walked.
A serious-looking servant let us in, but the Van Schuylers were not in evidence.
“Miss Alice Roosevelt. M
r. Joseph St. Clair,” said Alice. He bowed, and we followed him into a sort of large parlor where everyone was gathering. It was some room, dominated by a marble fireplace. On the mantle, vases of glass and silver shone, and maids had polished all the wood until you could practically use it as a mirror. The furniture was all leather with brass fittings, and I got the sense this was a room designed to impress, not to live in.
The servant announced us, which didn’t seem entirely necessary, but things are done a certain way in society.
I was used to sizing everyone up quickly. I saw Preston, looking as he had at the party at Alice’s, and he quickly came over and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which brought color to her face. “St. Clair, glad to see you again,” he said, shaking my hand.
Over his shoulder, I saw three more people: two men and a young woman who seemed just a few years older than Alice.
“Please, let me introduce you to my family.”
I followed along, curious not only to meet these people but to see how I was going to be introduced.
First was the older man.
“Uncle Henry—this is Alice Roosevelt and her Secret Service bodyguard, Joseph St. Clair. It seems protocol requires him to be at Alice’s side at all times.” A bit of a smile there from Alice. “This is my uncle, Henry van Schuyler.”
“A pleasure,” he said. Even though he was past sixty, his face was strong and unlined. “I haven’t seen you since you were a little girl, Alice. Thank you for playing host to Preston for so much of the summer. And Mr. St. Clair, welcome to our home.” His handshake was firm.
“And this is my cousin, Julia. I think you two ladies met when we were all children.” Now she was interesting. Julia was pale and slender—too slender, actually—and her cheeks were a little hollow. She could’ve been a pretty girl, with a few more pounds on her. I might’ve thought she had consumption, but she wasn’t coughing.
She gave us the ghost of a smile, and her voice was barely above a whisper. “Delighted to see you again, Alice. We were very young when we met last. Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. St. Clair.”
“And finally, Shaw Brantley, my cousin-in-law, so to speak—Julia’s husband. I don’t think you’ve met.” Brantley was noticeably shorter than I was, but broad across the chest, and he had a solid look about him. A full black beard completed the look, and I wondered at how opposite he seemed from his wife. “Miss Roosevelt, it’s a great pleasure to meet you. Mr. St. Clair—you are here in a protective rather than investigative role?” I couldn’t be completely sure, but I thought he smiled.
“Mr. St. Clair is devoted entirely to keeping me safe,” Alice replied.
“I wouldn’t have thought you’d be in danger here,” said Brantley.
“Mr. St. Clair is very cautious,” said Alice.
“It’s wise. We’re unfortunately living in violent times,” said Van Schuyler. “You never know where trouble will come from next. I understand from Preston that you are from Wyoming, Mr. St. Clair? You have your share of violence there, I believe?”
“Our share, but no more,” I said, and he nodded as if I had said something profound.
“Perhaps being in law enforcement, you are aware of the anarchist problem we have here?”
“You’d be surprised what we know,” said Alice. “They’re really a fascinating group.”
Van Schuyler frowned. “‘Fascinating’ isn’t the word I’d use,” he said. “I know your father has condemned them strongly, and I approve of his stance.”
“We don’t tolerate them in our business,” said Brantley. “Anyone found to even be associating with known anarchists is immediately dismissed.” He had a flat midwestern accent.
“Your business? I understand from Preston that it’s largely centered on the Great Lakes these days. I’m rather curious. I haven’t been farther upstate than Albany, and I know very little about the Great Lakes. Perhaps, Mr. Brantley, you could educate me?” Alice’s eyes were large, and she had as modest a look as she could possibly achieve. Brantley raised an eyebrow.
And then dinner was announced.
The rich used a lot of knives, forks, and spoons, which is not a problem if you have someone else washing them for you. You work from the outside in, so it’s pretty easy to figure out, as long as you pay attention.
I was seated next to Julia Brantley, who stared mournfully at her soup, took one spoonful, and then carefully placed her spoon back on the table. I didn’t know why, because it was good soup. But if she was ill, that might explain it.
“We were talking about the Great Lakes,” said Alice. “It was my understanding that your firm has been greatly expanding its operations.”
Brantley and Van Schuyler both looked a little startled at that, and then Van Schuyler gave a wry look at his nephew. “Have you been talking about the family business with Miss Roosevelt? I wouldn’t have thought she’d be interested.”
“Alice is interested in a great many things. You’d be surprised,” said Preston with a grin.
“I would be,” said Van Schuyler. “I know I’m old, but in my day, when we had a few minutes with a young woman, we had better things to discuss than the family business.” He gave a smile to Alice, who forced one back.
“Miss Roosevelt, do you realize that Chicago barely existed one hundred years ago?” said Brantley. “Today, it’s the fifth-largest city in the world. New York City’s population has about doubled in the past decade. We believe Great Lakes transportation will be essential to the growth of this region. There is nothing unusual in that.”
She nodded, and then Van Schuyler changed the subject. “I hope your father is adjusting to his new position. It’s hard enough to become president when one is elected, but to have the position thrust on one so suddenly, with violence . . .”
“Father has been up to every challenge he’s been given,” said Alice. “But you mentioned violence. I understand it was your great misfortune to be with McKinley when he was killed.”
“Unfortunately, yes. I was standing a little to the back, however, so I didn’t see anything.”
Alice clearly resented the implication that she was just seeking gruesome details, but she held her tongue. “But I am interested in the Great Lakes trade. It’s in my blood, seeing as we’re among the oldest families in New York. And I’m sure with all the changes and growth in the area, the Van Schuylers aren’t the only ones who see opportunity.”
The reactions were different. Preston could barely seem to contain his delight at Alice’s questions, but Brantley and Van Schuyler clearly were hoping the subject had been exhausted.
“We’re the biggest, but not the only ones,” said Van Schuyler. “There’s plenty of room in the Great Lakes for all kinds of shipping.”
“I’m sure, I’m sure,” said Alice. And then she turned to me. “Mr. St. Clair. What was the name of that company we heard? I think it was someone at Aunt Anna’s party . . .”
“The Great Erie & Albany Boat Company,” I said.
Now that really got Van Schuyler’s attention, and Brantley looked a little shaken, too. I thought they’d be angry at Alice’s persistence, but for just a moment, I saw fear in their expressions.
Then Van Schuyler leaned back in his chair, looking disgusted.
“That’s the name of a group of our competitors,” said Brantley patiently. “Jealous of our hard-won success, they have banded together to try to block our plans for expansion—an expansion, I may add, that will benefit everyone. But we need new facilities, new boats, and that requires a great many workers. We hired them quietly so as not to excite attention, but unfortunately, it only bred rumors.”
“Of course,” said Alice, trying to look sympathetic. “Supervising such a great many workers must be a difficult and complicated task. You must have many projects going on at once.”
“You’re your father’s daughter,” said Van Schuyler, who seemed pleased to have someone interested in his plans. “He’s always been fascinated by large projects like this. I’
m afraid that we’ve been so busy we haven’t been as social as we might’ve been. But I look forward to meeting your father again. It’s been too long. In fact, we’re launching a new ship in New York port, near South Street, and have sent an invitation to your father to attend. We well know his interest in maritime affairs, as he was undersecretary of the navy some years back.”
“I didn’t know we were launching a new ship,” said Preston.
“It isn’t widely known. It was all being done under the name of a local ship builder in Newport News to keep our plans quiet so our competitors wouldn’t quickly move against us. But now that we’re almost upon the launch, we’re ready to announce it. It’s a connection for our cargo for points south. It’s been docked in South Street for a few weeks for final outfitting. We’re hiring a crew and additional dockworkers. But we’re keeping the security high to avoid trouble from competitors and . . . others.”
“Such as the Archangel?” asked Alice. And I thought, There goes the diplomacy. But it did have an effect, that’s for sure. Brantley and Van Schuyler looked at each other, and this time there wasn’t room for doubt. They weren’t angry. They were terrified.
Brantley looked like he was going to say something, but Van Schuyler cut him off. Preston was openly smirking at the discomfort Alice was putting his uncle through.
“May I ask where you heard that name, Miss Roosevelt?” asked Van Schuyler.
I thought Alice was going to complain, yet again, about answering questions with questions, but instead she just said, “I find it amusing to visit some of my father’s old colleagues in the Tombs, and one of them mentioned an odd case, a figure called the Archangel. We know of at least one worker upstate who was terrified of him.”
“St. Clair—you take Miss Roosevelt to the Tombs? I wouldn’t have thought that appropriate.”
I shrugged. “I’m just her bodyguard, not her nanny.” And Brantley barked a laugh.
But Alice was still waiting for an answer to her question, which came from Van Schuyler. “Miss Roosevelt, I wanted to avoid such an unpleasant subject, but it seems that anarchists have been trying to convert our workers to their demented causes, and when our workers proved far too sensible, the anarchists tried to terrorize them. And I want to emphasize that every large shipping company has been hit by the Archangel. The name is used widely for these faceless fearmongers—a sort of blasphemous joke.” He smiled to restore good humor. “But I think we’re in danger of boring some of our company. Preston here has little interest in company affairs,” he added with an indulgent look. “And my daughter is in danger of getting very bored, and that’s unfair. Now, Preston is thinking of taking a grand tour. It might be amusing to discuss what cities he should visit.”
